the waves never sound as gentle as they do on late nights such as these. the late nights after dinner and a walk along the beach where you can rest within tanned arms until you fall asleep. the late nights where you can make domestic conversation including topics of tomorrows plans or who will make breakfast.

it’s always percy who ends up doing that, though. he’s permanently banned you from cooking after what you both call the incident (trademark that!).

which, in your defense, is an over-exaggeration. a baby turtle had washed up to shore and was in need of help. how were you supposed to know that your grilled cheese cooked so fast?! it surely wasn’t your fault that you only specialized in baking…

nonetheless, percy hasn’t let you cook since you nearly burnt the house down.

but disregarding your unfortunate experience with cooking, you let that thought exit your mind as you focus on the present. you let yourself bask in the sensation of a calloused hand running up and down your spine and a warm mouth veiling your shoulder in ginger kisses.

“grocery shopping. we have to go sometime this week.” you nibble on your bottom lip as you create a mental list of everything that needs to be completed. “and we need a new winter coats. oh, I should write that down, actually, before I forget.”

you prepare to sit up and find your notebook upon the nightstand, but your husband tightens his hold around you.

“in the morning.”

“but—”

“no buts. just relax, sweet girl.”

you pout, dropping your head atop percy’s. “I can’t relax. we have stuff that needs to be done.”

percy sighs. with a last lingering kiss, he lifts his he’s from your shoulder to rest atop the pillow instead. “stuff that needs to be done tomorrow. worry about it when the time comes. for now, you need to relax.”

you huff, yet nod your head. there was no use starting an argument with percy when you know he’s right. especially when it’s this late at night and you lack any true energy to even back yourself up.

and while the worries don’t stray far from your mind, you don’t vocalize them any longer. instead, you curl yourself back against percy, cheek against his heart. from here, you can listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“that’s my girl.” percy dips his previous hand on your back into your hair, twirling the locks around his fingers lazily.